


[Fanfiction] Crowley's Car

by SkyAsimaru



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Bickering husbands, M/M, Old music - Freeform, Wingfic, Wings, all in good fun, car crash, the Bentley is unharmed but mildly peeved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru
Summary: Crowley takes Aziraphale for a drive out in the country, inadvertently flustering the angel and nearly causing their discorporation. Humorous panic ensues, followed by some old music for the road.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	[Fanfiction] Crowley's Car

Aziraphale was not always afraid of Crowley’s car. Or rather, he was not always afraid of the speed at which Crowley drove. The first time he climbed into the Bentley, however, became the last time he rode passenger without complaint. 

That was because Aziraphale nearly wrecked the Bentley. 

This is that story. 

***** 

“C’mon, Angel. I’ll take ya for a spin!” 

Crowley crowed over his new car like a rooster over the sun - - a sun of shiny black metal with a sleek exterior design and all-leather interior.

“Oh!” Aziraphale twittered. “You’ve got one of those newfangled - - what do you call them? ‘Automobiles’!”

“You can call it a ‘motor car’, Aziraphale.” Gold eyes rolled behind dark glasses. “Or just ‘car’.”

“Well, whatever it’s called, it looks lovely.” Aziraphale stepped forward to inspect the vehicle further. “What is the model?” 

“A _Bentley_ . 1926 original with a single overhead camshaft and 4 cylinder in-line engine. This beauty has a maximum horsepower of 3500 rpm, and can go _at least_ 100 miles per hour, though I _bet_ she could go faster.” He caressed the hood of the car with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “She’s fresh off the line and she’s mine, all mine!” 

“Goodness! You do know pride is a sin, Crowley.” 

“This isn’t pride, it’s _praise_ . And my Bentley deserves the _utmost_ praise. You’ll soon see why,” he opened the door and made a grand, sweeping gesture. “Get in, Angel.” 

If only they knew how many more times he would be saying those words over the course of the rest of their lives. 

*****

Crowley took them out to the open road. Far from London, away from the hustle and bustle, the towering grey buildings disappearing behind them as they raced out into the countryside where sun and fresh air awaited them. It was springtime, and the car flew down the dusty roads, racing through thick, rich pollen and passing birds in the sky. The windows were rolled down, and the wind pulled at Aziraphale’s hair, rustling his short golden locks. He leaned his head back and basked in the glorious sensations of wind, speed, and sun - - the additional feeling of Crowley beside him, proud of his new car, beaming from ear to ear, his hand occasionally brushing Aziraphale’s thigh when he shifted the gear stick (completely by accident, of course) - - made Aziraphale’s breath hitch and smile brighten even further. 

_Why, it felt like flying!_ Aziraphale realized, and his heart suddenly beat like a drum. He closed his eyes, feeling the sensation right down in his bones - - the lifting power of speed, wind, and movement. He felt as if he could open up his wings and soar, right out into the open sky, his wings capturing the wind underneath them as it rushed, warm and welcoming, across his face. 

Unbidden and without his realizing it, Aziraphale unfurled his wings.

“Aziraphale - -AZIRAPHALE!” 

A pillar of plumage slapped Crowley in the face as a sea of white feathers filled the car, blinding him and making him jerk hard on the wheel. Aziraphale snapped out of his euphoric daze as the car tires squealed and screeched. They swerved off the country road, hit the grass, then barreled down into a deep ditch, seatbelts straining1* against their chests.

The ethereal beings dug into the sides of the car, screaming in panic.

The Bentley bounced at the bottom of the ditch, where it finally lurched to a stop. From that point forward, she decided that she would be the one doing the bulk of the driving, with very little input necessary from Crowley. 

“Aziraphale - - what in the nine Circles of Hell?” Crowley glared in outrage and shock as Aziraphale hastily retracted his wings while struggling with his seatbelt. Gasping like a fish out of water, the angel then threw himself out of the car, only to land on his hands and knees in the dirt, his legs shaking so badly they were unable to support his trembling weight. He was sorely tempted to kiss the warm earth, to thank it for its solidarity and much slower rotation rate on the larger scale2* of things after experiencing the spinning top that was Crowley’s car in its crazy descent.

“We could have been discorporated!” He gulped for air he didn’t technically need, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. “ _Together_ \- -! Wh-What would I have told Gabriel when he’d come to investigate my corpse? Our pile of limbs, twisted and tangled together - - 

“I knew you enjoyed my company, Aziraphale, but I didn’t think you enjoyed it _that_ much - -

“This isn’t funny!” Aziraphale stood, hands fisted at his sides. His heart beat like a hammer and his eyes twitched like struck steel. “Drive slower, next time!” 

“I can drive however fast that I want to, Angel. And besides,” Crowley was about to point out that it was _Aziraphale’s_ _obvious excitement_ that had gotten them into this predicament, but, judging by the deepening flush up the Angel’s face, it looked like he already knew. 

“Right. Slower.” Crowley choked out, instead. “You want slow? I’ll go as slow as you want.” He opened the car door and slipped in behind the wheel, again. “Get in, Angel. Please.” He added for good measure. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, then patted down his jacket and adjusted his bowtie. It was a soothing gesture, one he had performed regularly over the years. The motion grounded him in some way, as if reminding him that his corporeal form was still intact, and therefore everything was fine. His heart still beat a staccato rhythm as he climbed back into the car beside Crowley, though, and not just from the terror-slash-thrill of being nearly discorporated; he felt like he would need something a little more grounding once he got back to the shop. Something in the form of a large bottle of vintage wine.

Although car radios would not be invented for another 3 years, Crowley did a quick miracle of demonic ingenuity and twisted the metal in the dashboard into a shape befitting that of a transmitter and receiver. He’d be damned if he had to listen to the Angel’s panicked squawking all the way home, and speakers, now also installed in the sides of the car, began to play the soft jazzy-blues tune of “Black Snake Swing”. He heard Aziraphale scoff. 

“ _Really_ , dear? Such _vanity_.” 

“What can I say? She really liked me,” Crowley winked back.

Aziraphale was about to say something to that - - something along the lines of dismissal ending with “foul fiend” - - but decided against it. He swallowed the words down, instead. He rather liked the song too, if he were honest. Miss Spivey had written a fair few songs about Crowley and his slithering antics, all of them rather catchy. He fought down a smile and failed as the singer trilled and crooned her disdain for the ebony serpent, and they drove home in companionable, if still a little tense, silence. 

*****

When Crowley dropped him off at the bookshop, Aziraphale said goodbye politely, then firmly shut the car door. He swore to himself, privately, as he ascended the bookshop steps and Crowley peeled away, that he would never again get into Crowley’s wretched automobile if he could help it.

As he stood in front of the shop door, however, key in the lock, the wind blew and ruffled his hair from behind. Suddenly he remembered, in a flash, the feel of his wings filled by the wind, his pinfeathers stretched full and glorious in the sunlight, and Crowley beside him, warm, happy, and smiling, at least for the split-second before sheer utter panic had set in. 

And suddenly he knew that he would do anything to get into Crowley’s car again. Perhaps driving with Crowley would not be so bad, if he could convince the demon to temper his speed a little. Granted, this was contingent on whether or not Crowley ever let him ride passenger again, which hardly seemed likely after all this. 

Nevertheless, he hoped Crowley would offer him a ride again, and soon.

He turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Crowley hadn’t been wearing his, of course, but the restraint had miraculously jumped out to correct this issue when things started to go awry. Back
> 
> 2\. i.e., the whole universe. Back
> 
> Additional notes: 
> 
> * “Black Snake Swing” is a fantastic tune sung by Victoria Spivey and The Hallelujah Boys. It was actually released on record in 1936, but Spivey was performing her “black snake” themed songs well before that. Her first recorded single was “Black Snake Blues” in 1926, which started her rise to fame, and even though this song fits better in the timeline I chose “Black Snake Swing” instead because it is more fun, although both songs suit Crowley very well.
> 
> ** “Black Snake Swing” can be found on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pxb1ZC9Y5kY
> 
> ***So can ”Black Snake Blues” for that matter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SikUKrJOszE
> 
> ~All in all, I hope you enjoyed this crazy short fic, and its sentimental musical blast from the past. ~
> 
> Very Respectfully,
> 
> Sky Asimaru


End file.
